The Cutter Stories 4 Breathe Me
by x-EVOL-x
Summary: Lydia just wants to know that her life is her own, even though she has no control over it, and she finds that with each new cut means less anger and more reassurance. Lydia just wants to have her love hold her while she cries, because it's better than even the cuts, and that last breath, she knows, belongs to the love of her life.


I was too angry, I was making a mess, a mess of my arm, blood all over the sheets, and yet I still dragged that ragged blade across my skin over and over, until my tears had dried and I was no longer angry.

Every cut released that much more pain, that much more anger until it was all gone and I could breathe normal. But today I was too angry, I couldn't stop and my anger didn't go away until I'd cut my arm so much I had to switch to the other.

My life was mine, not my mom's, nobody's but mine. And yet I had no control over what I did, no control over anything in my life, and it made me angry, angry enough to ruin myself, just to know, to know it was my body, not my mom's body, at least I had something that was mine, even if it wasn't my life.

I remembered the look on her face, the look my mom gave me as she pushed me into the small coat closet next to the front door and locked me inside. I didn't know how long I had been in the closet with just my thoughts to torment, anger to tear away my morals, until I remember I had my switchblade with me.

And then I cut for the first time and it was the best feeling in the world, knowing my body was mine even though my mom had me locked in a two foot by two foot closet with no food, no water, and no way to use the bathroom.

I didn't bring it out to cut, I brought it out to get myself out, but I cut myself and I liked it, and I did it again, and with every cut my mind became clearer, my anger disappeared, and I was finally able to stop crying.

This time it wasn't working, this time I was too angry, home alone for the next two hours, video camera's pointed at my door, pointed at the front door, so my mom could watch my every move while she was out shopping for herself.

I keep on cutting, over my body, all over, until my clothing lies on the floor next to my bed and the front of my body was covered in blood, it smelled to good that blood, and then I remembered.

I remembered the moment my mom first found out, when my girlfriend had told her, when she saw all those scars, and got scared, and wanted me to have help. I remembered the feeling of her holding me, and telling me it was okay while I was crying, while my mom yelled and got angry and turned the house upside-down.

Suddenly I didn't want to cut anymore, I just wanted to have her hold me while I cried, I just wanted to hear her soothing words, so I could let everything out, and get help again. And so I let the blade drop to the bloody sheets and with sticky shaking hands I called her.

Another thing that got my mom angry, my liking girls and not boys, she told me I was a failure, told me I was to like boys, and forbid me to see my best friend, because I was in love with her, and so I kept cutting, and she locked me in the closet while she went to work, and forbid me to go to school, and took my cell phone. But I remembered her number, had memorized, so I didn't need an address book to type her number into the house phone.

"Allison…" That was all I had to say, and she said she would be there, and she said I was going to be okay, and she loved me, and it was so perfect.

I cried even harder when she said she'd be over, I cried even harder while I thought about her holding me, and how it was the best feeling in the world, having someone hold me while I cried, even better than being held while happy, being able to let out all those emotions with someone to be with me.

What my mom didn't know is I had given her a spare key to the house, and when she knocked on my locked door, I stood and walked across the room, with every step my cuts opened, and bled more, and hurt more, until I had to stop and lean far forward to unlock the door and collapse to the ground in agony. I didn't want to hurt anymore; I just wanted her to hold me while I cried.

"Oh god Lydia, baby, it's okay, I'm right here. I'm going to call an ambulance okay, you'll be okay." She petted my hair and sat on the floor, very carefully pulling my body on top of her, and she held me, and I cried, and I cried, and I cried, until the ambulance came and they strapped me to a gurney and then I still cried, while they hurried to wrap up the cuts and keep me from bleeding to death.

They didn't want me to cry, because I was using too much breath, and I needed that oxygen for my blood, and I was making myself too tired. Even when all the cuts were wrapped up tight, so tight I couldn't move, I still cried, because she wasn't with me, because they didn't let her come with me no matter how much I screamed, and how much she begged, and so she got in her car and followed so closely behind I could see her in her truck, and she could see me, and she was crying too, and I wanted her to keep holding me.

And when we got to the hospital she ran behind the paramedics, even though they said she'd have to come back later, and while I sat in the gurney, waiting for them to do paperwork, she held my hand and leaned over and so I rested my chin on her warm arm and spilled my tears on her until they came back and told her to leave.

And when I screamed and begged and she begged, they still made her leave, and I cried so hard and screamed so loud they wanted to send me straight to the mental hospital. And when I couldn't breathe and I got so dizzy I couldn't tell up from down they said I was having a panic attack and I needed to calm down. And yet I still screamed, and I bled through all the gauze and my body was so weak I could hardly even breathe anymore, but I still cried, I still tried to scream.

And there she was, not my love, my mom, pissed that I ruined her shopping trip, pissed I had control over my life, pissed I was even born. And she yelled at me in that hospital room until the security came and got her and then she was here, my love, crying, and body shaking, nearly on her knees as she walked in the room.

And she held my hand, as my heart beats got further and further apart, and the nurse came in and told her to leave, and yet she didn't, she said no, and yelled until the nurse shut up, and turned to me, to try to save me, but there was nothing they could do, but blind with the bright lights and the white floors, and the white walls, and the beeping of the equipment.

They pumped oxygen in me, and said I had to get a blood transfusion, but I had a hard blood type and finding it would be difficult, and meanwhile I was dying while I let my tears spill on the arm of my love as she held me and told me how much she loved me and how I was going to be okay.

I barely heard her, I could barely see her, and when my heart beats got so slow my heart only beat once a minute, she kissed me, and it took my breath away and then my heart stopped, and the last thing I felt was her lips on mine, and I knew that was the best way to die. I just hoped she didn't blame herself, I just hope she knew I died the best possible way you could die, and it wasn't her fault, because she made it so good, taking my last breath.


End file.
